


Fowl Play

by takethebreadsticksandRUN



Series: Give Breadsticks A Prompt! [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ducklings - Freeform, Fluff, Humor, Jon becomes a dad, M/M, Martin to the rescue!, No Angst, No beta we kayak like Tim, SO MUCH FLUFF, an intense amount of research went into this, do it bro just trust me, dubious usage of google earth to figure out london geography, no canon, no entities, set in season one except everything is better, this came from my Give Breadsticks A Prompt! thingy, when in doubt call your unrealized crush for advice on how to care for ducklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN
Summary: Jon hesitated. How did one say /I accidentally adopted twelve ducklings or maybe they adopted me? I’m not sure anymore but they won’t stop following me and I don’t know what to do./Without giving himself time to overthink it, he went ahead and said just that. “I accidentally adopted twelve ducklings or maybe they adopted me? I’m not sure anymore but they won’t stop following me and I don’t know what to do.”Dead silence on the other end of the phone.“I’m sorry- did you say…” Martin seemed to be holding back a laugh. “You adopted ducklings?”“Accidentally!”“How does that even happen?”ORJon confronts a new kind of parenthood, one even he never imagined for himself.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Give Breadsticks A Prompt! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081154
Comments: 17
Kudos: 125





	Fowl Play

**Author's Note:**

> guest asked for a fic where ducklings follow jon around and he has to call martin for help and i RAN WITH IT! i had a lot of fun writing this :) i used google earth to figure out where leceister park is and how it works so i'm sorry if there is any inaccuracies there, but the stuff about ducklings is heavily researched and correct! it's actually fascinating so if you're interested look up "duckling imprinting".  
> ANYWHO  
> enjoy a fluffy fic! set in a season one where jon ISN'T a dick and martin's crush isn't unrequited  
> xxx

Jon emerged from the tube station like a man pulled from deep water. He blinked in the sunlight, reveling in the feel of the fresh air against his skin. It was a beautiful day, the sun warm and comforting on his face. He shouldered his bag, stepping out of the flow of people to one side. He rolled up his sleeves quickly, enjoying the freedom of it.

Normally, Jon was not what anyone would describe as _chipper_ in the mornings. The fact that he often stayed up way too late, sucked into statement research and internet rabbit holes, combined with his dislike of crowds often combined in a very uncomfortable mixture of tired and irritated.

Today, however, was different. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. He wasn’t excited to get to work, not by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps it was just the magic of a clear spring morning. Jon pushed forward with something resembling a smile on his face, the equivalent of him jumping up and down for joy on a stage in front of thousands of people.

Read: it _never_ happened.

To take advantage of his own surprisingly good mood, he decided to take a longer route to work, one that involved him passing through Leicester square. Normally he avoided the crowds that came with the place, but today the promise of the beautiful park was more than enough to tempt him.

Jon took a deep breath as he walked, savoring the taste of things growing in the distance on his tongue. In a display of incredible generosity, he refrained from mentally criticizing the walking speeds of the other people, focusing instead on the rhythm of his own footsteps.

_What a miraculous thing_ , he thought gently, _that I can choose the beat of my life’s song._

He didn’t know what it meant, to be honest. Bad poetry was more Martin’s thing than his, so he thought it best to leave the sentimental thoughts alone.

Fountains burbled cheerfully, the steady drone of the city clashing with the sense of peace that came with the bright green park. Jon didn’t slow his pace, still moving steadily onward toward the Institute, but he enjoyed the softly waving grass and blooming flowers more than he usually did.

He was almost past the final great tree marking the corner of the park when he noticed something a little out of the ordinary. Jon stopped and crouched down next to a wooden bench, peering underneath it.

Huddled beneath the wooden slats, chirping softly and staring around them in mild confusion was a flock of about a dozen bright yellow ducklings. Jon stared at them in shock, trying to comprehend the strange sight.

He coughed, unsure of what to do. Nobody around him had noticed the small birds, bustling about their business with a single-mindedness he admired. Jon stood, rocking back on his heels, looking for the mother duck. She was nowhere to be found.

Now, Jon was not a cruel person. Contrary to popular belief, he even had a heart, reserved for cats and small furry animals. He had been careful to hide this side of him since his late teens, dreading the mocking that came with being seen as _weak_ or _soft_. He cursed the part of him that immediately melted at the duckling’s soft _cheep_ ’s but knew he couldn’t leave them alone and still sleep at night.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll wait for a little bit to see if the mother comes back.” He checked his watch. He had enough time to waste making a fool of himself in a public park; who was he to turn down the opportunity?

Jon made himself comfortable on the bench, determinedly _not_ looking at the ducklings fluttering beneath him.

After ten minutes, there was still no sign of any parental figure for the helpless birds.

He pulled out his phone, hesitating before typing _what to do with abandoned ducklings_ into the search bar. The consensus of the many opinions on the internet was to leave them alone, the chances were the ducklings weren’t abandoned and the mother would return soon.

It did nothing to quell the sliver of unease he felt, but Jon knew he couldn’t spend the entire day waiting for a duck. Almost reluctantly, he got to his feet, swinging his bag over his shoulder again, grateful none of his co-workers had seen him. He couldn’t help but whisper a soft goodbye and well-wishes to the yellow fuzzballs as he left.

Jon hadn’t gone but a few steps before he realized he was not alone. He turned around to see the flock following him, little heads bobbing with each step they rushed toward him. He froze, confused. The ducklings stopped right at his feet, chirping eagerly. He took an experimental step to the side. They followed him eagerly, pushing up against one another. Jon walked a dozen paces, just to see if they would follow him.

They did.

Jon resisted the urge to run in the other direction as fast as he could. He walked back to the bench, the little flock at his heels. He sat down once more, googling _what to do if ducklings won’t stop following me_.

A flood of information later and all thought of getting to work on time had left his mind. Jon discovered that at an early age, ducklings may _imprint_ on a person, thinking of them as a mother figure and following them around wherever they went. It was perfectly normal and natural, to his relief, Jon wasn’t alone.

_It was a very strange morning_ , he thought, scrolling through an article about how to care for ducklings feverishly. _Started off the day mildly happy on the Tube and ended up a single father of twelve._

There was no doubt in his mind that he was now responsible for the ducklings. What kind of monster would abandon _children_? As uptight as he could be, Jon found himself hopelessly charmed by the pointless business of the small birds.

However attractive the prospect of adorable new pets might be, he had to admit he had absolutely _no_ clue what to do. He skimmed too many web pages to count, all the information getting twisted around in his head until the only thing he could think of was _I can’t leave them alone_.

Jon bent over and stretched out a hand, grinning as the ducklings crowded around it. “Little ones,” he said, “What am I to do with you? I’m at a loss, I’m afraid this is quite out of my element.”

Inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning. _How had he never thought of it sooner?_ He quickly dialed a phone number, crossing his fingers as it rang.

Martin picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” he said, sounded confused but cheerful.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief. “Martin, _wonderful_ , it’s Jon.” He glanced at the birds huddled at his feet. “Er- I’m in a bit of a predicament and I- well, I thought you might be able to help.”

“Me?”

He was starting to rethink his impulsivity. “…yes? Is now a bad time? I could call back or find someone else, it’s truly no bother at all, in fact, I probably shouldn’t have bothered you, it’s stupid, I’m sorry-“

Martin interrupted his rambling with a laugh. “Whoa, Jon, it’s alright, I don’t mind. It just…caught me off guard, I guess. What’s up?”

Jon hesitated. How did one say _I accidentally adopted twelve ducklings or maybe they adopted me? I’m not sure anymore but they won’t stop following me and I don’t know what to do_. Without giving himself time to overthink it, he went ahead and said just that. “I accidentally adopted twelve ducklings or maybe they adopted me? I’m not sure anymore but they won’t stop following me and I don’t know what to do.”

Dead silence on the other end of the phone.

“I’m sorry- did you say…” Martin seemed to be holding back a laugh. “You _adopted ducklings_?”

“Accidentally!”

“How does that even _happen_?”

Jon smiled to himself, forgetting that this was his assistant, his coworker, someone he was supposed to be professional around. “I stopped to wait by them because I couldn’t just leave them, I don’t know where the mum’s got to, then they just sort of…started following me everywhere. I think they think _I’m_ their mum?”

Martin burst out laughing, the sound distorted through the phone. “I’m sorry,” he managed, “But that is _not_ what I expected you to say. I thought you were calling about something work-related.” He chuckled, muttering something containing the word _adorable_ he couldn’t quite make out.

“Yes, yes, I know…”

“So, let me get this straight-“ There was a muffled sound on Martin’s end like someone was moving close to the phone. “You are now a mother figure to abandoned ducklings and the first thing you thought to do was call _me_?”

The thought had just occurred to Jon. “I suppose so,” he admitted.

“What in the world gave you any idea I would have a _clue_ what to do in this situation?” he teased.

“You’re good with animals?” Jon said feebly. In truth, Martin was so warm and comfortable to be around it would make sense he would know what to do with baby animals as well.

“Well, you’ve got me there.” He muttered something under his breath, typing on a computer somewhere. “Alright, Jon, what you’ve got to do- you’re listening right?”

He nodded, then, realizing Martin couldn’t see him, gave an affirmative.

“Okay, so, somehow, you need to get them to the Institute. You can pick them up, carefully, it won’t hurt them if you’re gentle. I’ll get some stuff together so once you get here we can figure out what to do. Sound good?”

“Yes, that sounds great. Thank you, Martin. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Jon hung up before he could say goodbye.

“Alright, babies, we’ve got to get you to the Institute. It’s a dreadful place for children, I’m sorry,” he said, cooing nonsensically at them. “But Martin will know what to do with you. Now, how do we carry you?” The small birds would certainly get trodden on in the throngs of people.

Jon turned to his work bag, thinking fast. If he held it a certain angle, with his laptop flat on the bottom to hold it open, he could scoop the ducklings up and place them inside it. He ran the risk of them pooping in it, but it was a small price to pay to make sure the fluffy creatures survived.

“In you go,” he muttered, gently picking them up, one at a time, and transferring them to the safety of the bag. They chirped at him brightly as he did so. They were so _fuzzy_ , Jon could have spent all day cradling them.

He stood, carefully cradling the bag. Jon walked quickly to the Institute, periodically checking and making sure the ducklings were alright.

He made it into the lobby with no incident. As Jon crossed to the stairwell, he heard a too-cheerful voice behind him. 

“Bossman! Didn’t think you would make it this morning, but Marto told us all about your _fowl predicament_.” Tim chuckled at his pun, peering into the bag from over his shoulder.

Jon froze, torn somewhere between mortification and a grudging smile. “Yes, I seem to have found myself a small family.”

Tim grinned. “Trying to replace us already?”

Jon groaned, deliberately turning to the stairs. “Come one, Tim, let’s see what Martin managed to scrape together.”

Sasha was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. She cooed over the babies, letting them crowd around her finger. “Martin’s already got them a home,” she said to Jon, straightening up. “Shall we get them to safety?”

Jon nodded, following her to the break room. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before him.

Martin had risen to the occasion, throwing together a habitat for the ducklings that far exceeded Jon’s half-baked plans. On the table was a sturdy cardboard box, one that used to house statements, its bottom covered in a thick layer of paper towels. He had sourced supplies from around the Archives, turning an old plastic container that had been living in the fridge for months into a large water bowl, using an old lamp trained on the box as a heat source, several leaves of lettuce scattered across the box for the ducklings to eat.

Jon cleared his throat. “Um… _wow_.”

Martin hovered anxiously near the table, fixing minute details here and there. “D’you think it’s good enough?”

Jon walked over to the table, placing the bag gently on a chair. “It’s more than enough, thank you,” he said gratefully.

With help from Tim and Sasha, they placed the ducklings in their new home, baby-talking them a ridiculous amount.

“I might just die,” Sasha declared, holding one near her chest. “They’re too _cute_.”

Jon had to agree. Tim looked at him thoughtfully. “You know,” he said, “This is the happiest I’ve seen you. Do you have a secret soft side, boss?”

“Not so secret anymore,” he muttered.

Martin, for some reason, was blushing. He had been fumbling over himself slightly for the past few minutes, thrown into a panic by something Jon wasn’t aware of.

“I guess the Archives has ducklings now?” Martin said, leaning back to admire their work. “At least for the next six to eight weeks.”

“I hope Elias doesn’t mind,” Tim said worriedly. “Leave it to him to hate _ducklings_.”

“He doesn’t have a say in it,” Jon said firmly. “We’re going to take care of them, no matter what he tries to pull.”

Sasha smiled wide. “Alright then, lads, what do you say we learn how to be parents today instead of whatever we’re supposed to be doing?”

She didn’t even have to ask.

Later that night, packing up his things, Jon thought it wasn’t a bad way to spend the day. They had agreed to take turns taking the ducklings home after work and on the weekends until they were old enough to be re-introduced to the wilds of London. He slung his bag over one shoulder, picking up the box.

Martin was the only one still at the Institute. He looked up as Jon passed. “Bye, Jon, see you tomorrow,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for your help, Martin. I couldn’t have done it without you. You know, if the whole archiving thing doesn’t work out, you could become a…” Jon fumbled for the right word.

“Animal kidnapper?” he supplied, laughing.

“I didn’t kidnap them!”

“Sure, sure…”

Jon wasn’t sure if it was the sight of the dozen sleeping ducklings or something else, but something warm and tender was budding in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> bonus scene- martin freaking out because jon is so soft and adorable around the ducklings his gay heart can't take it.
> 
> give me a prompt [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28398282)


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